the role she was cast
by ellabellbee
Summary: Takes place as if written between S4 and S5. Cancer arc. Helena returns to the Warehouse to help, but doesn't quite know how to talk to Myka. Pete entertains a recovering Myka by being silly. (Was supposed to be a one-shot, but I added a second chapter.)
1. Chapter 1

**Web yelled at me to write her fic, and this is what happened. Thanks to typey for the beta, and to web for telling me to post it.**

* * *

Helena still felt like she was walking on eggshells.

As soon as Mrs. Frederic had called and explained the situation, she had come back to the Warehouse. Things with Nate had been ending anyway, and her team – Or rather, _the_ team she couldn't help but feel as if she still orbited, even if in the furthest path possible – needed her. Though, maybe they just needed a warm body to fill the spidering cracks that were slowly failing outward.

It had been three months since she had packed that first suitcase, and she had been living out of it ever since. With Myka out of the rotation and Claudia needing to focus on her caretaker training, she and Steve had been taking the majority of the cases while Pete was left in charge of making sure that Myka actually took care of herself.

She still couldn't figure out if he was the best or worst of them suited to that job.

Yet Helena couldn't deny that Pete had been an unyielding rock of support for Myka. She could hear his voice now coming from her room, telling her about how he was going to fluff up her pillows and entertain her while she recovered, and then she even heard that low chuckle that she heard so seldom now.

Helena glared at the suitcase she was unpacking and then already reloading, simply dumping her dirty laundry from the last retrieval into the hamper before putting her second set of clothing back inside. The second set had been bought out of necessity, almost near duplicates of the meagre items she had salvaged from Emily Lake's wardrobe, the pieces weren't garish or steampunk or with any notable features about them. She loathed the bright colours from Wyoming and wasn't yet feeling like she deserved the soft blues or structured waistcoats from... well, from before.

And so she had her two sets of clothes, a suitcase, and an endless number of missions to go on. Missions that allowed the rest of them to train, or recover, or nurse. Missions that gave her a purpose, albeit one that only existed so that the rest of them could fulfill theirs. Missions that kept her busy and away. Transient. Nomadic. Unable to put down roots.

Temporary.

She heard Myka's low chuckle again as Pete was mumbling something unintelligible and it caused Helena to glare at her suitcase once more. She thought she might have a little time to stay, this rotation. If only for a night, to maybe take on one of the other roles for an evening: helper, innkeeper, comedian – maybe even be able to produce that laugh from something that she said instead of from Pete's childish games.

But instead, she accepted the role that she was cast, because she was a good Warehouse agent, but she certainly wasn't suited for psychology or housekeeping. She wasn't the person someone came to for comfort.

No, where she could provide the most comfort was in making sure that everyone else could be where they were needed. She and Steve made a good team, even, and right now she knew that Steve was already waiting for her downstairs as she dallied, packing slowly so that she could hear Myka's voice just one more time before she left. (Was it leaving if she was vacating a place she didn't feel as if she resided in? Was she instead returning, and were the moments she spent here just an interlude from her real home, one of hotels and red eye flights?)

She zipped the suitcase shut and left her door open behind her, hoping that someone would gather her clothing again to be washed for the next instant turn-around. In the hallway, she could hear Pete's voice more clearly, and though she knew she was running late, she paused for the response.

"Peeeeeeete," Myka was whining, and she must be feeling better than she had been if she was able to sustain this level of effort with him for such a long time, and Helena allowed herself a moment to smile at the playful tone. "I can get up and do it myself!"

"I know you _can_ Myka," Pete responded, and even though Helena had heard a version of this conversation during each of her recesses spent unpacking and repacking, this one held an air of lightness. "But this is the one time in your life that you have the ultimate excuse! You have _cancer,_ Myka, milk it!"

Helena had gasped sharply at the word – the one that she never allowed herself to say, barely even think, but Myka and Pete were throwing it around carelessly as if it wasn't the thing that had permeated every atom of the B&B and all of their lives.

"Milk what? I don't even have to ask you for anything and you're already doing it."

"Except read to you; you know big words make me sleepy. But you probably could get me to do it if you did what I taught you – c'mon, just one time."

"I'm not going to say it, Pete," she heard Myka say defiantly.

"Just like I taught you! You really have to put the moan in, though." It sounded like he was taking a deep breath for whatever he was about to say, and then with the most overdone, pitiful, childlike sound Helena had ever heard, he whined, "But I have caaaaaaaaan-cerrrrrrrrrrrrrrr."

"Even if I were to ever say it, it would _never_ be like that."

"But no one would ever be able to say no to you! You want to eat all of Artie's cookies and not let me have any of them? You say it like that and it's totally fine. It's the rules."

"You made these rules up."

"Hey, they're good rules!"

Helena could hear them continue to banter and she could hear her heart swell at the lightness in Myka's voice. A voice she heard at all so rarely lately – her short sojourns at the B&B were usually spent giving Myka a wide berth anyway. They had so much to talk about still, and it would take up far more energy than she would allow herself to ask of Myka to expend. And so, she turned away from the voices, and started towards the stairs.

"Hey, HG, I didn't know you were back."

Helena grimaced at Pete's voice and turned back towards him, seeing him leaning casually now against Myka's doorframe.

"Not for long, I'm afraid," she answered. "We practically had to drive past the B&B on the way to our next retrieval, so we opted to stop for the length of time it took to acquire some clean clothing."

Pete nodded absently and she had begun to walk away again when she heard Myka croak, "Helena?"

She stopped at the edge of the stairs, and winced at the change of tone in Myka's voice. Only a minute ago Myka had sounded happy, and her mere presence had ripped that contentment away. "Yes, darling?" she called out, almost tripping on the endearment.

She had stayed frozen in her spot, but then Pete straightened and glared at her, gesturing for her to take his place. She ground her teeth and returned his look, but her feet had already obeyed and she had replaced her pained grimace with a neutral look by the time she reached the doorway.

Myka was propped up in her bed, half a dozen pillows behind and around her, and a large hardcover book lying beside her. She looked better than the last time Helena had seen her, but the view was still startling. Her thin hands curled in on each other and picked at the dry skin, and then one of her hands cautiously reached up to adjust the fleece cap that adorned her head. But even with the loss of hair, rounded face from the drugs, and upsettingly pronounced collarbones, the hesitant smile she wore was the most beautiful Helena had ever seen.

"Hi," Myka breathed, and Helena almost believed that she had added to Myka's good mood instead of destroying it, but then Myka looked away.

Her hands curled into the blanket and tried to pull it up, but even that small motion looked like it was taking too much effort. Helena crossed the room without even thinking, and pulled the blanket close around her, suddenly aware of how near she was to the woman she had barely seen since she started working for the Warehouse again.

"There," Helena murmured, simply so that she would say something. "All better. Now, poor Steve is waiting for me –"

"Were you really going to leave again without even saying hello?"

Helena thought she didn't know how to answer, but the words came out unbidden. "If I don't say hello, I won't have to say goodbye."

Helena looked everywhere in the room except at Myka, and the silence went on too long. She used to be good at silences, but now she wanted to fill up all the empty space. "Perhaps one day I'll be able to stay home longer between missions and we can share some tea. But until then..."

"Maybe Pete could take this one?"

Helena's head whipped back to Myka. Didn't she understand what Pete's role was? What _her_ role was? She was only there so that the others could do what they were better at, so that they could help, and nurture, and heal. She had no place in the healing business.

But Myka's voice kept coming, the words rushing out in uneven patterns, as if each piece had to all come out together or they wouldn't come out at all. "I just miss you. And Pete really needs a break, and a mission with Steve would be good for him. He's not any good at reading out loud either, and the book is sometimes too heavy and makes me tired and that's something that you're good at. And I miss your voice. Because I miss you."

Helena stood still in the wake of Myka's words. They gave her hope, and yet, didn't she see? "But that's not what I'm supposed to do; I'm supposed to work so it's easier for you to get better. I understand what I need to do — I, I can't possibly do what you ask."

Now, it was Myka's turn to look everywhere else in the room but at Helena, and if Helena had been looking anywhere but at Myka she may have missed the tiny, quiet, and insecure little voice murmur just above total silence, "but I have cancer."

Helena's breath caught in her throat; replaying in her head the words that Myka had only moments before vowed to never say. "Righty-ho, then," she answered a long pause, before leaving the room and finding Pete eavesdropping just beyond sight from Myka's room.

"Do I get to go pack?" he whispered, though she was certain his version of a whisper carried to Myka's ears. She pressed her lips together and gave him a curt nod, and he ran back into Myka's room to say his goodbyes. She quickly ran downstairs to explain the situation to Steve, and by the time she had returned upstairs, Pete was already bounding towards her with a duffle over his shoulder. "Keep me updated, okay?" he asked, stopping suddenly before her. "She's strong, but I worry, and I think the change of scenery will be good, but don't hesitate to call me back, okay?"

Helena nodded. "Thank you, Pete."

He just gave her a tight smile before continuing down the stairs and immediately starting to suggest restaurants to Steve for the road trip.

Helena shook her head and turned back to Myka's room, now seeing an empty spot where the book had previously lain. "I thought maybe, you could start with reading to me?" Myka said, yet still small voiced and hesitant.

"Of course," she answered with false confidence, and then sitting on the bed next to Myka. "From the beginning?"

She nodded, and when Helena opened the book she heard Myka say, "Thank you for staying." Her voice didn't hold the same easy tone as it did with Pete minutes before, but Helena would swear forever that this was better.

"There's nowhere I'd rather be." She cleared her throat heavily — it still wasn't the time for the deeper conversation that they needed to have, but perhaps they were getting a little closer to it. "Now, let's begin."

And as she read, Myka slowly moved closer to her on the mountain of pillows, until Helena herself was the only pillow that Myka was using as her eyes fluttered closed and she drifted to sleep.

_No_, Helena thought, as she pulled the blanket up again. _There's nowhere that I'd rather be._


	2. Chapter 2

Today must be a good day.

Helena and Steve had just returned from their latest mission, and Helena was glad to be back. Not only because this particular retrieval was especially difficult, but because for the last month she and Pete had been taking turns on their missions, and she was looking forward to spending the next little while at home, both resting, and exploring this new... thing with Myka.

Helena smiled the second she came in the B&B's front door. Home. It finally felt like she had one again, though it really wasn't so much the physical building she was in so much as the person who was calling her here. As if on cue, Pete and Myka's laughter floated from the living room, and she revelled in the sound.

Yes, today must be a good day.

She approached the entryway into the living room and was content to just watch them for a moment before she made herself known. Myka was curled up on the couch in a warm sweat suit and thick woollen socks, the ever-present fleece cap still covering her head, and her hands were wrapped around a cup of what must be tea. But her cheeks held colour and her eyes were bright – and again there was the wonderful sound of carefree laughter.

The next sound Helena heard was not as pleasant.

"...and _then_ it'll all be, 'pip pip cheerio, 'bout that time ol' chap?'"

"Peter, is that atrocious sound you're making supposed to be mimicking _me_?"

She walked into Pete and Myka's sightline and she was happy to see that Myka's smile managed to grow just a little bit brighter, and she laughed again. "He's anthropomorphized my tumour."

Helena didn't quite know what to say to that, so instead she sat down next to Myka and kissed her gently before turning back to Pete. "And so, despite Myka being American, you've decided her tumour is English?"

He looked at her like she was slow. "Duh, HG. It's a _foreign_ mass. It _has_ to have an accent."

"Well, by all means, make the disease that has ravished her body come from my homeland."

"You're just mad because you want to ravish her body all on your own," Pete replied back with surprising speed while waggling his eyebrows.

Myka laughed again, and though Helena was throwing him her best evil eye, she knew it was softened by Myka's presence beside her. "Even so, I absolutely refuse to share my origin with something so sinister. Choose somewhere else, and _never _attempt to speak with an accent from anywhere in England again."

"Aye," he started again, and while he was now outside of England, he didn't go too far. "Then I suppose I can just talk like it's after me Lucky Charms."

Helena rolled her eyes but Myka continued to smile, and Pete must have found that enough encouragement to continue.

"Or!" he started in his normal voice, and then he quickly switched again. "A- _Hon Hon Hon_," he practically grunted. "Ze tu-_more_ iz from ze land of _qwaaa-sontz _and ze _bagg-etssss_ and ze best of all, ze _craayyyypes!_" He made a face, though, and then continued again in his normal voice, "No, that can't be right. Something so bad can't come from a place with such good food."

"Then according to you, that rules out most of the world," Myka pointed out, and Pete grimaced.

"What if it's from oot and aboot in Canada, eh?" Pete replied, this accent just as terrible as all the others.

While Helena didn't really have many experiences in Canada, the money still held the picture of the Queen and she felt sentimental toward any country that was still part of the Commonwealth. "What could you possibly have against Canada?"

"The cheese curds in poutine make me gassy."

"Peeeeeeeete," Myka whined. "_Everything_ makes you gassy."

He shrugged. "Shrimp doesn't. Let's go throw that tumour on the barbie, mate?"

Myka protested the accent again, but Helena tuned out the rest of Pete's performance. She cared only about the woman beside her, who had put down the tea to settle one hand in Helena's and rest the other gently on her thigh. Helena curled her own arm around Myka's shoulders and smiled as she leaned in, snuggling into Helena's neck.

Even as Helena placed a light kiss to the top of the fleece cap, she could feel Myka's laughter vibrating through her. Yes, this was a good day, and Myka's good days were coming more often now.

The tight ball of stress and worry that had lived in the base of Helena's stomach for the past four months relaxed just a bit more, and she could feel some of the tension leaving her body. Myka leaned back up as if she could feel the change, and looked right into Helena's eyes. "Hey, are you okay?"

Helena could feel the breath catch in her throat and her eyes started to prick with her tears born of so many competing emotions. "Yes," she replied with a soft smile. "Everything is wonderful, now that I'm here with you."

Myka nodded as if she wasn't sure she believed her, but gave her a quick kiss anyway before lying down across the couch with her head in Helena's lap, and turning her attention back to Pete.

As Pete and Myka continued to banter, Helena traced random designs on Myka's arm and back, and took pleasure in Myka's weight against her. So much had changed over the past four months and not a lot of the changes were pleasant, but the path had brought them to this point.

Helena could feel the emotion welling up again, and so she turned back to the conversation. Pete was now attempting a farce of an Italian accent, but Helena cleared her throat.

"Upon reconsideration," Helena started, and then needed to stop when her voice grew thick.

Myka looked up at her with her eyes wide and questioning, and fully of worry. She cleared her throat again and continued. "I think it would be okay if the tumour was English. Even though it caused a lot of hurt and pain in the beginning, and even now still, it _did_ allow me to see a sort of truth and – and I – I must believe that the truth that was revealed later can be seen as a sort of good and may offset at least a miniscule part of the pain."

The tone in the room was no longer jovial and Helena regretted saying anything, regretted ever thinking about her own parallels with the hurt that the cancer had caused Myka, but a moment later Myka took Helena's hand and pressed it softly to her lips, and then to her heart.

"No pain or hurt will ever overshadow the gift it brought to me. As sick as I am, it gave me you."

Helena could feel Myka's heart beat faster, and she had no answer other than a soft smile and a slow nod. "Okay," she finally said, when she was able to talk again. She took a deep breath and turned her attention back to Pete who was waiting patiently for them to finish.

"If this foreign mass is in fact going to be British, we're going to have to work on your accent."

He broke out into a smile. "No wait, I know this movie! The _rain_ in _Spain_ stays _mainly_ on the _plain._"

Helena looked around the room as if it held an explanation for Pete's nonsense. "Right. I have absolutely no idea what that means."

"Yes!" Pete exclaimed. "It's time for another lesson in pop culture!" He bounded to his feet and started toward the stairs, presumably towards his bedroom, which had the biggest television. "You guys in?"

She looked at Myka who was smiling and gave a small nod at her, so Helena repeated the nod back at Pete, who left them behind to get the movie.

There was a moment of pause before Helena helped Myka back into a sitting position. When she was back at eye level, Myka brought up her hand to trace along the side of Helena's face. "I heard what you were saying, before. I did. But you have to know, having you here with me now is worth every bit of physical and emotional pain that I have ever experienced, whether it was from the cancer or from... before. You understand that, right?"

It took all of Helena's courage to nod, and she was rewarded with another soft kiss.

"Good, then help me up the stairs before Pete tries to carry me up. I actually have some energy today, and I'd like to use it."

Helena again nodded and they made it to the base of the stairs before she could no longer hold back the rising emotions. "I love you, Myka. I don't often say it and showing my emotions is difficult, but I do. Love you."

Myka smiled and answered, "I love you too," like it was the easiest thing in the world. And maybe it was.

Helena stared, transfixed by Myka's eyes, only to be startled by Pete calling down to ask what was taking them so long, and the moment was broken.

But when Myka curled back into her side when the movie started, Helena realized that the tight ball in her stomach that had eased earlier was now almost completely gone. Yes, perhaps even the most destructive of forces could still cultivate some good.

Even the foreign ones.


End file.
